Out of this troubled couple, one is made up and one is well known but can you guess who it is? This is set after the books so anything's possible. I only own the made up person, nothing else.

It was dull and wet and over all rather gloomy in Ankh-Morpork. It was raining this evening. Almost everyone was inside his or her homes keeping dry. Apart from two people who tended to find these rainy evenings fun, a challenge even.

Sir Samuel Vimes was on patrol.

While walking along the streets he spotted something in an ally way. It was a dark figure, hidden in the shadows. Vimes would not have seen it unless he had been looking for it for months. He casually side stepped into the ally and made himself comfortable against the wall while the figure crossed her arms and avoided looking at him. She had got a dry spot under a balcony and wasn't going to run this time.

Vimes lit a cigarette before talking.

"You know you'd be warmer, not to mention dry, if you went home." The figure glared at him for a brief moment before hiding her face. "You got a nasty scar there." Her hand found it's way to the scar that went along the left side of her face. The light from someone's window glinted on her new set of brass knuckles. "Brass knuckles, always useful." Her hand flew under her robe as to try and hide the brass. "Are you going to say something or just stand there?" Silence. "Fine."

After the cigarette was gone he spoke again.

"He really misses you."

"It still works there. He didn't fire it." The words came out bitter.

"It has a name you know, I'm sure he would be insulted if he heard you." Another cigarette appeared.

"He can run down Quarry Lane with a pickaxe and a hand full of diamonds for all I care."

"I can under stand you feeling like that. But don't you think you should talk to your husband?" She pulled down her hood so her face was visible.

"My husband can join him down Quarry Lane." Eyes turned to face the wall she fought back a few stray tears.

"That's a bit harsh isn't it?"

"Harsh!" The tears were gone, and wide eyed she glared at Vimes, face full of anger. "My husband cheated on me with another man! A man who works for him and it still works for him. He didn't think I might be a bit offended by that?"

"But he has a great mind, he's needed."

"Well my husband has the choice, me or him, right now it appears to be him." Her arms crossed in anger. She had gone over this many times to herself since she left but it doesn't get any clearer, or make her any less angry.

"He doesn't want to raise suspicion by firing anyone. A lot of people are already suspicious about your absence." Vimes tone of voice had not wavered since he stepped into the ally. But he decided that changing the subject would be a good idea. She may not have actually gone there, but she had the full abilities of an assassin and had no problem using them to an extent where you wish you were dead. She would never finish you off though, that would be against Guild rules.

"Where did you get the money for the knuckles. Last time I saw you, you were begging, sorry, asking me for money."

"Yes I was, I sneaked back home to get some money." The rain started to calm down. There was a crash from the direction Vimes had come from. He turned to look at it.

"Ok. You want to tell me where your latest victim is before you disappear into the night?" He turned back but she was gone. Vimes sighed and muttered "marriage problems" to him self.

About 10 minutes later Vimes had made his way down another street and was absent-mindedly smoking another cigarette.

"He really misses me?" A familiar voice said from above. He looked up to see the cloaked figure perching on a porch.

"He's stopped eating."

"He hardly eats anyway."

"But now he eats nothing." She jumped down in front of him.

"You'll be telling me he's stopped sleeping next."

"Well, actually, yes he has."

"He hardly did that either."

"He looks terrible."

"He looks terrible! I've got a massive scar on my face, I haven't washed in god knows how long, I have bruises in places I shouldn't have and my hair is a mess!"

"At least you haven't broken a nail." This was Vimes' attempt at humour; it wasn't going to go down well.

"No, I haven't broken a nail, I've broken all 10!" She remembered to breathe before talking again. "I'm a wreak, I want to go home, I miss my husband, I miss my bed and I miss my bath."

"Then go home, talk it out with him."

"It's not that simple. You know him, you know how hard it is to talk to him about things like this, even for me." She heard someone approaching and ran before they could see her or Vimes could react.

"Ah Vimes."

"What are you doing out?"

"That was rather rude wasn't it? I'm just taking a stroll. Trying to clear my head, you know, with every thing that's going on." There was a pause. He shouldn't be out; he hardly ever goes out on his own, especially at this time of night. Vimes thought about this but dismissed it.

"I saw your wife today."

"How is she?" The response came out rather fast, especially from the talker who never blurted anything out in such a fashion.

"She's fine. But she…"

"Wonders why he's still working for me."

"Yes. To be honest, I'm wondering too." Vimes started walking and the ill, darkly dressed husband walked with him.

"I have tried to persuade him to quit. I really have no grounds to fire him on."

"I'm sure your wife could think of a few."

"This is no time for your sense of humour Vimes." They exchanged glances and walked in silence through the night.

You probably think its rubbish, I'm sorry. (You could prove me wrong by reviewing hint hint).